“He’s the smartest classic in the school, anyhow,” said T. S. M. hotly. “Greek and Latin prizeman, and all that, and he’s going up to Trinity next term, and he’s certain to get a fellowship, besides a double blue.” “He’s big enough bore to get a deanery,” was Miss Grace’s swift answer. I grieve to say that the whole table, her reverend papa included, seemed really charmed with this audacious speech. “Well,” said Harrow’s captain, feeling that the day was going against him, and therefore losing his head a little, and mixing his metaphors horribly, “you can curl back into your shell. Your airs won’t wash with me. And don’t put side on with a pitchfork either, for when all’s said, you are barely an hour older than I am.” [Illustration: “‘Hooray! Isn’t A. J. just a darling?’” _Willow, the King._] [_Page 203._] “Yes, dear Tommy,” said his sister; “but then, you see, I’ve not been to Harrow.” The Fates, however, were now kind enough to play into the hands of T. S. M. It is almost certain else that his mutilated corpse had been carried from this fatal field. A maid-servant issued from the house with a pink slip in her hand. She delivered it into the care of the Harrow captain. “The boy’s waiting, sir,” said she. Tom tore off the wrapper. Thereon he was seen to grow noticeably pale, while he allowed the telegram to flutter from his fingers. “I say!” he gasped. Miss Grace pounced on the pink paper like a hawk, and read out its contents in a voice thrilling with excitement: “You are selected for Kent match, Monday, Tonbridge. Reply paid, Webbe. Hooray! Hooray! Isn’t A. J. just a darling!” The exuberant young person waved the telegram about in such a frantic manner that she overturned the teapot into the lap of Carteret. “Terribly sorry, James,” she said breathlessly; “terribly sorry. But lend me a pencil, somebody, and, Jane, just see that that boy don’t go.” A pencil being promptly forthcoming, Miss Grace wrote in a hasty but firm hand on the slip attached: “Shall be very glad to play, Tonbridge, Monday. T. Trentham.” “There you are, Jane,” said she; “give that to the boy,” and fishing half-a-crown from her purse, added, “and this is for him, too.” “Laura, what unwarrantable extravagance,” said the Rector, looking so happy that he could scarcely sit still. “It ’ud be five shillings,” said Miss Grace, “only I want some new gloves for Tonbridge on Monday. But isn’t it glorious! Isn’t it tremendous of A. J.! Tommy, I’m _so_ delighted! And didn’t I say from the first that they wouldn’t pass you over? And you will take me to Tonbridge, won’t you, Father?” “I think you are more likely to take me,” said that indulgent man.